Hard Life
by Zoser
Summary: Sam and Jack marooned again! Nothing too graphic but some vulgar language.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is told in a none linear fashion, I hope it is not too confusing.

It is a Sam and Jack tale, as usual. There is some harsh vulgar language – blame Jack.

And some topics may be distasteful to some.

* * *

**Hard Life**

"You know, you take up a lot of room."

He rose to his full six foot two and straightened his broad shoulders. He turned his head looking at her with eyes wide.

"Do I look fat? He asked as he patted his stomach.

She threw a piece of damp laundry at him. Space was at a premium in the grim shack they called home. It was bedroom, kitchen and storage all in the space no larger than her bathroom at home in Colorado Springs…on Earth. Her bathroom at least was clean and had running water and a floor. For crying out loud it had a roof that didn't leak. God, she hated it here. And no, he didn't look fat, if anything he looked like he could use a decent meal.

Jack had been looking in a pile of stuff that he had collected from the dump in hopes to sell or use for barter. And Sam had been trying to hang some damp laundry in a space you couldn't swing a cat. Morosely she thought the locals probably ate all the cats.

And later they'd have to reshuffle all the shit if they wanted enough room to be able to lie down to sleep, sleep with the laundry dripping on them. Oh yes, this was the life.

Jack worked to improve their living conditions but work was scarce. One look at his grey hair and it was "no thanks, pops" if they were polite or "bugger off, grandpa" and a well placed kick if they weren't. So Jack did what so many of the locals did, scavenged at the municipal dump. He would have rather gone right to the wealthier neighborhoods to snatch the items before they were mixed with the foulest of trash but his kind, the poor and such assorted riff raff were not welcomed there. So he became a treasure hunter and provided for the two of them, maybe not in the style they were accustom to but they weren't exactly starving. Oh, if Jacob Carter could see the squalor he housed Sam in, Jacob would so kick his ass.


	2. Chapter 2

The city was beautiful, a jewel partially encased in a bowl of high mountains which were streaked with cascading streams, flowing gradually together in the wide plain surrounding the gem. On it's highest point an acropolis of ancient temples stood to long forgotten gods. Below this the stately homes of the nobility grace the broad avenues. Official and commercial buildings filled the seaward quarter while winding paths led to the homes of the average citizens and eventually to the rich farmlands of the plains. The hills sides provided pasture for grazing flocks. Most of the mountain streams joined to form a wide deep river which cut through the southern most part of the metropolis. The silt that the river deposited on its delta moved the site of the city from directly on the shore to half a mile inland. On a promontory over the river was a broad plaza and from it an equally broad and impressive bridge spanned the river. Here, on the plaza facing the vast ocean and the rising sun, was the Stargate.

The city was the home of the nobles, the wealthy, the famous and the just tolerated middle class. But to the south of the great river, away from delicate eyes and sensitive noses, the slums sprang up. One of the mountain streams, the most sluggish of the lot, flowed through the shanties providing drink water and latrines, water to bathe in and a place to dump refuse. In the rainy season it inundated the slum with fetid mud and in the summer it spawned parasites. Here the peasants were allowed to exist but only if they must and only if they managed to keep their existence far from the consciousness of the city dwellers. And here was the only place unexpected visitors through the Stargate were allowed – live if they must but face down in the stream was preferred.

0o0o0o0o0

His hands were filthy and he stunk.

"Look what I found."

He held out the bags.

"Do I want to?"

"I think some guy got dumped or was the dumpee, anyway he cleared out all of her stuff, toiletries, clothes...I got what I could."

"You were at the garbage dump today?"

"How could you tell?"

"Wiseass"

"I couldn't find any work. I thought I'd see if I could find something to sell but maybe we could use some of this. Look through this stuff, I want to go back. I found a few boxes of broken tiles. If they're still there I'm going to bring them back and make us a decent floor."

The shack they were living in was slapped together with cardboard and wood and sheet metal, whatever O'Neill could scrounge from the dump. It kept the sun and most of the rain off of them. They baked on hot days, froze on cold ones. When the rains came they considered themselves lucky when the sewage in the culverts didn't run in the front door.

Sam sorted out the booty, there was soap and shampoo, pills which she was hoping were analgesics and not aphrodisiacs, tampons and makeup. The clothes were about the right size but way too stylish for their present situation. Sam decided to keep some of the underwear and sell the rest. There seemed to be some men's things as well. It was funny the Jack had a whole scenario for this find. Sam wondered if it had happened to him.

On his return Jack set down two heavy cartons and said  
"I found some of his things, too. I think she may have given it to him or they reminded him of her, any way they're clean. I hope there are enough tiles here to raise the floor above flood stage. I'll start to lay it out when I get back.  
So if you give me some soap I'm going to the river and don't boot me out if I come back smelling too girly."

She smiled and said "I'm next."


	3. Chapter 3

Jack went upsteam as far as he could, where the water was clean. He had passed the major sources of industry and work on this side of the river. The stockyards were miles off in the plains but the slaughterhouse was here, as was the accompanying tannery and rendering plant. These were the chief source of pollution of the meandering stream; the effluent from the factories and the sewage from the slum proved to be a deadly brew. The factories were located on a spit of land that was south of the pristine river, north of the stream and down wind of the city. As he waded into the cool water, he marveled at the beautiful city shimmering in the heat of the early evening and he felt a deep contempt those who fouled the stream and subjugated the poor.

Jack wondered which Goa'uld had brought these people here to build temples to worship them. Why? Was there mineral wealth? Did the mines play out or did the Goa'uld grow bored and just to abandon them?

The people here had learn nothing from their former masters. There was a very low level of technology, slightly above the horse and buggy stage. There were primitive means of communication and transportation and, of course, there were rifles and explosives. But the toys that Carter liked to play with were absent. With a wealth of cheap labor, labor saving devices were not even imagined certainly not deemed necessities. Jack wanted to find things to keep her fertile, restless mind occupied but didn't want to draw attention to themselves. In the midst of abject poverty any one with the slightest of luxuries was envied and detested.

The local were not the friendliest of people. While they suffered the same retched existence they envied their neighbors every crumb of bread. The means of procuring that bread was also jealously guarded. The mindless, backbreaking jobs at the three plants were handed down from father to son, even as they cause the workers sickness, injury or even death. Occasionally meat was procured from the slaughterhouse and sold to the peasants. But more often than not it was from diseased bloated carcasses that could not be sold to the general population. Jack wondered if they would ever be force to eat it in order to survive.

Jack wondered why the slum dweller didn't just go off to the fertile plains or the mountain sides to carve out a living for themselves. He soon found out it was strictly forbidden and any trespassing on the land of the entitled brought a swift and deadly reaction. This was, of course, unless laborers of the lowest order were needed and then the proper permits were obtained. Workers were transported in and out of the restricted areas.

And to top off the joys of this planet women were looked upon as chattel, they walked behind the men, their domain was the home to cook and clean and bear children. Male children, that is, another useless female was regarded as a failure - a waste of resources and one's time unless, of course, she was pretty enough to expect a tidy sum when sold to the highest bidder. Sam hated this place and Jack mused that he wasn't any too fond of it himself but he had no solution to the problem of getting home. Every waking minute, when he wasn't busy just trying to keep them alive, he sought the answer.


	4. Chapter 4

She complained that she had nothing to do. He glanced around at the squalor of their living conditions and she glared back at him. 'Oh god' he thought 'all the 'yes, sir' seems to have left Carter and I'm in big trouble'.

She said that she had nothing to read; if only there was some paper at least she could write down her thoughts because god knows he didn't want to listen to her. He started to answer her back but shut his mouth. She was right he didn't want to listen to all her theories again and again. It would serve no purpose. He didn't understand the complicated theoretical physics the first time. And what could he do beside make useless comments that would make her realize how far out of her league he was.

No, he had a better idea; he went out and found her a young girl's diary that had been discarded on the rubbish heap. Pages had been ripped out, others with words savagely crossed out. But there were plenty of blank pages. Sam was happier. Jack may have had no patience to listen to her theories but the paper embraced them. It's not that he didn't want to listen to her. He needed to do something, anything to get them home, or keep them feed until he could. He needed something to occupy his hands and his mind so he didn't feel like such a failure.


	5. Chapter 5

They were each others morale committee. It didn't always work but they tried.

If she were down he kept her entertained or found things in his travels about the city that might intrigue her.

She would rub or scratch his back, tell him her take of some of their funnier missions and she would make love to him until that was all he could think about. She did it for herself too. Without him the future was too bleak to imagine.

0o0o0o0o0o0

She wanted to know when their status would change from MIA to 'who cares we've got other things to do'. Sam remembered when SG-11 went missing. At first a flurry of activity, it was everyone's prime concern. But with months of 'no sign of them' the base, as a whole, moved on; there was a war to fight. There were other pressing matters that took precedence. And, yes, they were forgotten; they were forgotten until Sg-1 learned how Apophis' Jaffa had captured and tortured them and finally killed them, millions of miles from home.

Jack conceded they were in a jam and they would probably have to get themselves out of it. But on the bright side there were no Jaffa or Goa'ulds or Replicators.

He heard her cry that night and it hurt as much as their abandonment by the SGC even though he fully understood. He felt her tears, her pain, was the direct result of his ineptitude – he was a failure.


	6. Chapter 6

He called her 'baby' sometimes when they were making love. 'Baby' it was so 1940's but she loved it when he called her that in the night, just the two of them in each other's arms.

She realized that she loved him and when they went back, as he often reminded her they would, she would not give him up. She'd break the regs. ('What were they doing now?'), she would resign her commission, she would humiliate herself by begging for an exception but she would not turn her back on him.

Most mornings she woke before the sun rose to the almighty racket of the song birds. Considering the slum dwellers voracious attempt to eat every last one it was amazing that they continued to flaunt their existence.

When she awoke the first thing her conscious mind did was search for him. Most often the comforting warmth or his busy hands assured her that he lie by her side but not always. Many days he was heating water for tea, if they had any, or he watched the sun rise as he worked the kinks out of his bones and aching muscles.

Some days, and these she dreaded the most, she found him taking stock of their gear and cleaning their weapons. She supposed the familiar feel under his fingers grounded him, giving him hope of returning to his former life but she was sure it was just the opposite. She thought it was a sign of hopelessness, of a despair that indicated only violence was the solution. Only violence would return them and, more likely than not, it would only procure him a new home in a shallow grave.

He wanted more for her and for himself; he wanted a future for them. It was only his aching body and the rusting weapons that stood in the way of total impotence and defeat.

Sam tried to subvert his mood by luring him back to bed but it was not his need but hers that he responded to. And there were mornings and days that nothing could drag him up from the depths of self doubt, hopelessness and feelings of abandonment. Not even the song of the birds, as the last glimmer of the stars of the night gave way to the dawn, gave him peace.

0o0o0o0o0

It wasn't just sex; they made love. It was the need to give and it was raw need. It was desire and lust. It was years of not knowing and years of want. It was passion and obsession. It was gentleness and caring. It was beyond words and as simple as a kiss. And he wondered sometime what she would do if someone stronger or younger or more attractive came along and had more to give her.

Sometimes he would withdraw into himself and the coldness of despair would drip from his icy fingers but she would come and sit by him lean her head against his chest and let him know that she needed him. If he left her behind she would wither and die; she would not turn her back on him and expected the same from him. And for her he always relented.


	7. Chapter 7

She was just beginning to realize that she had hurt him. For a long time she didn't think most men experienced the emotional high and lows women felt. Just because they were so bad at expressing their feelings didn't mean they didn't have them. She wasn't exactly an open book herself.

Pete was a mistake but he was also an emotional roller coaster, somewhat an exception to her rule. All she had to do was look at him and she could see his emotions plastered all over his face – an easy read but she doubted there was any depth. Jonas Hansen was domineering and somewhat emotionally distant. She had been surprised that he proved to know a lot about her. She didn't think he had ever bothered to put any effort into their relationship.

And what of O'Neill, he rarely let anyone behind the façade. He kept the team at arms length with humor or sarcasm or anger and, especially for her, military discipline. The team of buddies seemed at times so superficial. She needed to see and feel some depth of emotion. She realized, almost too late, it was what he did everyday. His steadfastness, loyalty, honor and self-sacrifice screamed his love for them – for her. So much so, that words were shallow in comparison. Yet she needed to hear the words. And one of the hardest things in her life would be for her to tell him how she felt. To express her feelings in words were to acknowledge them, to make them real, to tell not only him but the world.

0o0o0o0o0

He thought he could feel her unease as she lay in his arms. He had thought she was in the state of post coital bliss. He certainly was and struggling to stay conscious.

"What's the matter, baby? You okay?"

"You've slept with other women?"

"You've slept with other men, should I be worried?"

"No."

"You're jealous?"

"Yes."

He nuzzled her neck below her ear and whispered softly "Samantha, I love you."

His lips followed his words and tears slipped down her cheeks. She didn't want him to say he thought of her when he was with other women. It would have hurt. They had something that should have been hers and her fear, indecision, career, who knows, was to blame.


	8. Chapter 8

Jack was having trouble sleeping – too much to think about and absolutely no desire to rehash the problems he had no solution for. He appropriated a piece of Carter's precious paper. Well he was the one who found it in the first place. He thought he would leave these people something. No, they didn't deserve it. As far as he was concerned they deserved to be lined up against a wall and…no, that wasn't right either. He wasn't giving them a reprieve- no, not at all. Not a firing squad with 'projectile weapons', nope too messy. These fools had already made a mess of this place. He was thinking more along the line of three quick ones with a zat. No mess to clean up. He wondered a few seconds what happened to the stuff that was disintegrated. Didn't the "Law of Conservation of Matter" apply to everything in the galaxy? He wasn't a total dullard. He could ask Carter but thank God she was asleep.

So Jack got on with the original task. He wished he had stone tablets to engrave these simple words, then maybe they would remain after he was gone. Maybe their children would benefit or their children's children.

He wrote from memory:

"We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed, by their creator, with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

On that note he decided to pursue some happiness and slipped into bed with Sam.

0o0o0o0o0o0

She'd wake up in the night to find his hand splayed across her ribs with his thumb between her breasts, or across her belly or holding onto her thigh. On some nights he'd just lie on his back snoring and she felt bereft of his touch. She'd poke him in the side and he would dutifully roll over away from her.

'How long was this man married?' she wondered.

Then she'd run her fingers down his spine just to hear a sleepy voice ask if there was anything he could do for her.

0o0o0o0o0

She wouldn't say the man was insatiable but he did have a hearty appetite for sex.

"Were you always like this?"

He just smiles for a while.

"I think I'm going to be in trouble no matter what I say."

"How about the truth"

"Say your hungry for a steak and all you every get served is salad and cottage cheese and occasionally a hamburger. Well if you're hungry enough, really starved, you might take a bite but it doesn't satisfy you. You still want that steak."

"So you're comparing me to a piece of meat?" She said trying to keep the laughter out of her voice.

"It's an analogy, Carter but if I had some A1 I'd pour it all over you."


	9. Chapter 9

In the routine they had established on the days that Jack went to the dump Sam left a change of clothes and a bar of soap just inside the doorway. This day he returned and took the bundle without a word. He returned this time clean but in a somber mood. He leaned against the back wall and slid down to the floor. Sam, gauging his mood, knew enough not to ask him what was wrong but instead brought him a mug of soup and hunk of bread and sat beside him. He toyed with the food but found it to difficult to eat. Physically he looked fine. He had come back on occasion with cuts and bruises, even limping but this was something eating at his soul.

He didn't want to tell her. She was finding it difficult enough to come to terms with this place. But the words came out as if he needed to purge his mind of the memory.

"I've seen bodies out at the dump before – old men, abused women, and even infants. I brushed it aside, owed it up to desperation. But today… another infant…but she wasn't quite dead…just left there…left with to die with the trash… too weak to cry."

Her hand found his, he held tight to her as he stared straight ahead.

"Not a rag to cover her, the umbilical cord still attached – new born, painfully thin, skeletal and blue. No matter what we could do here, home maybe, but here she would only die. I picked her up and held her. Stupid I suppose but I couldn't… I held her till she die and I buried her to keep the rats and dogs away. Not that it will do much good."

He still stared ahead voice barely above a whisper.

"I can't do that again."

He sat there till full dark and then watched the sky looking for release. The anger seeped away only to leave utter contempt for these people and this planet. Jack thought of the alien ship that had been transforming the Enkaran's new haven. He wished it were here to burn away everything and everyone. Only one thing bothered him, well, beside Carter, of course, he didn't want his ashes to mingle with those of these savages.

Sam warmed up his meager dinner and gave it to him. He ate. He would need his strength to get them out of here.


	10. Chapter 10

**An excerpt of Major Carter's Debrief after their return to Earth: **

"What exactly had happened? I'm not sure. How long had it been? I should have taken better note of such things but for a while everything was such a blur. We gated to that wretched little planet P8X-925 with that mob of people. It was a mission to resettle refugee led by Colonel O'Neill, with Teal'c, Daniel Jackson and myself. Sure they were hungry and homeless but they didn't ask, they demanded.

I'm sure you know all of this, sir.

They weren't the independent type that wanted to do for themselves; no, they wanted the SGC to provide for them and they would sit there and starve before lifting a finger to help themselves. They did manage to spend most of their energy whining and complaining. In the midst of the crowd of demanding people was Jack, Colonel O'Neill; he was at wits end. Teal'c was looking down his rather regal nose at their indolent attitude. And Daniel was struggling to understand their dialect. I was trying to keep them from stealing everything that wasn't nailed to the MALP. So, none of us noticed at first. Truth be told it was a very noisy, very vocal bunch, so much so the first few staff blasts went unnoticed except, I assume, by those they hit. Then there was panic, screaming and shouting. Someone dialed the gate. I didn't know, at first, if it wasn't one of us, one of SG-1. But the gate opened and terrified people streamed through. We got separated, I was pushed through to god knows where, with maybe thirty others all pushing and shoving. Then I heard him calling me.

"Carter, Carter."

Before I could get to Colonel O'Neill the police came. They had dogs and truncheons and they wanted us gone. We were force out of the plaza the Stargate was located in and directed to the slums. The colonel was beaten for objecting and demanding to speak to the authorities. I grabbed his arm, yanked him to his feet and we ran. Well he hobbled as best he could.

He had a black eye, the scar over his left eye was opened again and there was a gash in his leg. He said it made him look tough and we were probably going to need it. He knew, too, that Daniel and Teal'c had not been among the group that wound up here, wherever here was. But if they were in the hands of the Jaffa, we didn't know. It ate at him."

0o0o0o0o0

Jack had given his testimony earlier in the day and could not get their first days on the planet out of his mind. They didn't give up attempting to reach the Stargate after their unexpected arrival and immediate expulsion for the plaza. They licked their wounds; yes, Carter had been bruised and bloody too, got the lay of the land, set up a camp and reconnoitered. They knew when every watch changed, how many men were assigned to each watch, and just how close a civilian could get to the gate without drawing a lethal response. For all their reconnaissance there was minimal return. There were too many soldiers guarding the Stargate with too many weapons and the coils of razor wire barricading the southern slumward entrance didn't help. Anyone approaching within 100 yards of the plaza was toast, man, woman or child - no warning, just bullets. As difficult as the next few days or weeks would be he was glad to be home.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I told you it was non-linear. And thanks so much for the reviews. I truly appreciate them.

* * *

Back in the slums of the unknown planet 

She wanted to go home. She hated this god forsaken world and every last son of a bitch on it. She hated every god damned thing about it. She wanted to throw things, smashing them, breaking them to pieces and scream. The night before had been unseasonably hot and muggy and neither of them slept well. She was in a lousy mood. It happened to both of them from time to time but today was bad and she took out every grievance out on him. Every thing that didn't go precisely the way she wanted it to was his fault and it was starting to get on his nerves. The foul glares and vile attitude drove him out the door. He disappeared for the day. And as angry as she had been at him for just breathing, she was angry that he left with out telling her where he was going.

He can back in the late afternoon and changed into the ragged stained clothes he worn to pillage the dump. He said he was going treasure hunting and would return later. She said nothing, still in a snit.

He didn't come home that night. But the police came. They prowled the neighborhood as the agents of law and order and population control. If you annoyed them, they shot you. If you were too loud or had on the wrong color shirt or were politically active they shot you. If the powers that be thought too many teens were crowding the streets or harassing the tourists they cleaned house. Everyone in the slum cowered in their beds that night while shots rang out.

The next morning they found no less than eight men and boys dead. She had to look; he hadn't come home. He wasn't there and she was frightened and alternately angry. She knew he be back any minute and afraid the next body they found would be his.

When he found her staring at the fly covered body of the young boy. He pulled her away to their hut.

"I couldn't come back. There were too many of them on the streets last night. If they followed me back here they might have hurt you."

All the while she hit his chest calling him a son of a bitch and trying her damnedest not to cry.

"You bastard, how could you let me worry all night?"

He just held her with a look of forbearance on his face.

"I can't say I'll never leave you but it sure as hell won't be willingly. You know that don't you?"

That night was the first night they made love. A swirl of emotions - desperation, anger, fear, loneliness and years of longing made it turbulent but gentility and deep abiding love made it complete.

He fell into a deep sleep but started to rouse after 20 minutes at the unusual sensation of a woman in his arms. The feeling of contentment morphed into the feeling of unease as he became fully awake. He hoped he hadn't taken advantage of her emotional state and then would have to face a painfully awkward morning. He was amazed it had happened and yet wondered why it had taken so long to get to that point.

Sam hadn't been so emotionally distraught since Doc Frasier had died, that day she came into the room when he was still dressing. They were both in pain. He hated to lose men or woman under his command and especially someone who had a place in his heart. He tried to project the stern military front but his people were precious to him although at times he was forced to use them as pawns in this elaborate chess game of war. Each injury and each death took its toll. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Sam had not just come to give and take comfort from the pain of Janet's death. She had said it, hadn't she. She was glad he was alive. She was telling him that she cared for him, that his life was of value. She told him that loved him and she told him by word and deed. And now the proof of that love was her lying asleep in his arms. With a gentle smile on his face he drifted off with no fear of what the morning would bring.


	12. Chapter 12

She tried, god knows she tried, but it got to her from time to time. Sam was so upset and was thoroughly annoyed at herself for being that way. They lay down to sleep at night and she could not stop herself. The words came pouring out of her mouth.

"I hate it here. I want to go home. I hate this planet. I hate the people. I hate everything about them. You did this before, how did you stand it?"

She felt as though she were falling off the deep end.

"I know Edora wasn't as bad as this but how did you stand it? How did you manage?"

And as soon as the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. It was Laira that got him through and he… Well she didn't want to hear about it, life was crappy enough as it was.

His voice was soft and low and she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear a word. At least it was dark and she could barely see his face.

"I hated it there, at first. Sitting in that damned cave waiting for the meteorites to stop impacting the ground. It was worse than any shelling you could imagine. We were waiting there for days – just waiting for it to stop or for the cave to come crashing down around our ears. The kids and Laira were scared senseless so I had to put on a front for them while Laira tried to crawl inside my… well she was frightened.

When the planet stopped shaking it was on fire.

I kept checking at the mouth of the cave. The meteorites started falling … well, you know when, through the day, throughout the night and most of the next day setting everything on fire. Then torrential rains started. At least they put out the fire. Only a few of the homes escaped. One scored a direct hit and three families were killed. The rest of the people the ones who survived hated me and blamed me for the disaster as if I brought this on their village. They didn't seem to understand that more would have died if they hadn't gone through the Stargate. Bunch of pig headed fools – instead of being grateful for what they had, they would have been happy to see me starve."

Sam didn't know this. She didn't realize that it was hard for him as well as those on her side of the gate.

"Laira forced them to let me remain with them…for shelter and food. They would just as soon see me dead as if it could bring back their people and their village. And if that wasn't bad enough I found out the Stargate was gone. I couldn't begin to tell you how I felt. The place where it was…it was scoured out. It was just a giant rut of rocks and dirt not a hint of what had stood there before."

"When Teal'c and I left a very large meteorite, the size of your truck was barreling down at us. We jumped through; actually Teal'c pulled me through right before a direct hit."

"That was another thing, I didn't know if you and T had made it through.  
I got a shovel and I tried to find the gate. I had to help the villagers prepare for the winter and let's face it I was in the same boat. I went back every night until I had nothing left."

"We were working on both sides."

"Not very effective on my part.  
Laira let me stay at her house while we rebuilt and repaired the houses and barns and also worked in the fields."

Sam tried not to let her distaste for the other woman to show. Jack felt her stiffen every time Laira's name was mentioned and ran his hand up and down Sam's back.

"She tried to convince me that it was time to leave my 'old' life behind and embrace the 'new' one – to become one of them. And they did accept me at this point. And I did kind of enjoy the simplicity of the life there but it would be like excising part of my soul, part of who I am, to leave it all behind."

"You didn't forget us?"

"How could I forget you?"

"I thought sometimes you just have to move on."

"It doesn't mean you forget.  
She...Laira... wanted another child…she wanted me to give her a child."

Sam had no response to this. They had never discussed this and she was now truly sorry she had asked and queasy at the turn the topic had taken. And she was afraid of her emotions so close to the surface would betray her. She wanted no display of tears or of anger.

"I was lonely you know… and she kept offering…"

"You don't have to tell me this."

"She said their custom was to mourn for one hundred days and then to move on. Well just about on the dot they had a harvest celebration and got me good and drunk…"

"You don't have to make excuses either." She bristled.

He continued as if she hadn't spoken, needing to get it all out in the open so they could get passed it.

"I wanted to; I was tired of being alone. And I had even begun to give in but she wasn't who I wanted. She would have just been a substitute and it wouldn't have been fair to her or to me. She was good to me – she didn't have to be. And maybe if I had been forced to stay there I would have made something of it but, crap, I just don't know. But I made a life for myself while I had no other choice is what I'm saying…I kept on living. I think that's what we've got to do here as repulsive as you find the situation. We'll make it better for ourselves and we will get out of here – make no mistake about that – we will get out of here."

"At least I'm not alone." She said.

"I don't know if I make it better or worse for you."

"It's the only thing keeping me sane."


	13. Chapter 13

Sam woke still kind of groggy and wondered if it had been all a dream. No, not just the night in Jack's arms but the whole marooned on a distant planet thing. But no, there she was naked and pressed against him and she could feel him stir. He usually got out early on these hot days, before the sun seared everything in its path, before the dump reeked with the stench of rot and decay. He took her hand and held it above her heart while letting his fingers trail softly in the valley between her breasts. It was still cool and lying together was so comfortable.

"What do you say we make this permanent."

"You want to stay here? Have you lost your mind? Don't you want to go home?"

Her voice rose as did she.

He pulled her back down into him arms.  
"No, that's not what I meant. What do you say to us getting married?"

Now she was sure he had a screw or two loose.  
"Hand me the phone, I'll call the caterers."

"Wise ass. I mean just the two of us, now." His voice was deep and serious and it scared her a little.

"You mean as in 'for better of for worst'."

"Yeah. I need you to know, Sam, that I don't need you."

He felt her stiffen.

"Shit, I've fucked it up already. What I'm trying to say is that I've manager to live on my own and can continue to do so…but I don't want to. I want you in my life. And I'm not just talking about here. And yeah, for better or for worst, although I think we did that part and might have to do it again. I think in this deal I'll get the better and you'll get the worst."

"For richer or for poorer" she said, her voice a little quizzical, still not sure he was serious.

"Everything I have is yours, Sam, everything."

"In sickness and in health" Sam found tears welling up thinking of the times he had moved heaven and earth to find her and then sit with her till she awoke and knew that she was safe. She had done the same for him.

"Forsaking all others" he said softly but firmly. She tried to stifle a sob

"I'm sorry… it was all my fault." He said while his thumb stroked and caressed her cheek.

"Love, honor, cherish" were whispered against her temple as he slid his arms around her.

"Till death…" she continued.

"No." Jack said.  
"No… stronger than death." He said to her as he rocked her in his arms.  
"Stronger than death." This he knew for a certainty.

She knew that he loved her but feared, that when or if they returned, everything would fall apart.


	14. Chapter 14

He was singing.

"'Liquor' she said  
And lick her I did."

He sang sometimes – well if you could call that singing. And the selection of tunes was most unusual.

Then it occurred to her, he was happy. How in God's name could he be happy here? Okay, on occasions he was absolutely morose, depressed tinged with seething anger – this she understood.

Life was hard. They struggled every day for enough food to eat; there was no way home. The doorway was tantalizingly within sight but not within their reach. The natives were not above stealing you last morsel of food or the filling from your molars if you yawned. The shack they lived in, while far better than the ones inhabited by the locals, was cramped and mere inches from being inundated by raw sewage and the playground of the local equivalent of roaches and rats.

So, why the hell was he singing? Lemons into lemonade? No, that was not the Jack O'Neill she knew. Had he given up hope of getting home? He didn't sound drunk. Or, oh my god, could it be…Had he found a way out? Had the poor man gone off the deep end, nuts, three fries short of a Happy Meal… wacko?


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I was listening to a CD, Celtic Enchantment by Greg Joy. The tunes are original as well as traditional. You might enjoy Royal Forester, Skye Boat Song, Morrison's Jig and/or Knight's Flight, as well as all the rest. It inspired this chapter.

* * *

It was one of those days when both of them where at wits end. He had had trouble sleeping and got up to clean and oil their weapons. In his mind he went over every plan he had come up with since arriving here. And each plan he examined, reworked and ultimately rejected. They did not have enough fire power to storm the gate, they did not have enough money to bribe the guards and the guards were too numerous to be diverted. Even if he and Sam managed to set the slum on fire or blow the damned place to kingdom come, no one would really care; in fact, it would be a welcomed event. 

The morning, as beautiful as it was, brought no joy. They had been there too long; they could not get to the gate; no one had made the attempt to rescue them. Sam and Jack were both sure no one knew where they were. They felt hope slipping away. Desperate dangerous plans filled his mind. They were discussing the insanity of trying to storm the gate at night. And they both fell silent knowing such a plan would only bring them death.

In the quiet he heard the music, so very different from the melodies the locals hummed. At first it was clacking of sticks beating out a rhythm, then a drum was add but not just any drum, O'Neill would have bet his eye teeth it was the deep tones of a bodhran. O'Neill's curiosity was peaked; he gave a questioning glance in Carter's direction. Then he heard the pipe and he was off.

There on the outskirts of the slums were two caravan-like affairs with maybe 11 people, men, women and children, who were definitely not locals. Their dress, their build, their coloring and their carefree easy demeanor set them apart. Their music was reminiscent of the jig and reels of the Irish as well as the mournful ballads of the Isles. One of the slum dwellers cast an eye on them, muttered 'travellers' under his breath and spat. Others had gathered around to have fortunes told, pots mended, purchase unusual wares or just enjoy the music and to see the sight of these people free of the weight of the life in the slums. But they all maintained a certain distance as if these people, these 'travellers', held a power that could cause them harm.

Jack stood on the outskirts observing the crowd. The music continued and the instrument although rather crude to the outward eye produced wonderful range of music. One of the women held a wooden board with metal wires stretched between nails. She beat the wires with wooden mallets and played her version of a tiompan (hammered dulcimer). This was the music of his childhood, once played by long dead great-aunts and uncles. One year in grammar school he had step dancing instead of Gym and he found his feet, now clad in combat boots, aching to move to the music. He was sure it was in his genes as sure as eye color. Sam came up behind him, feeling his body responding to the music as she tapped the infectious melodies on his arm. They watched two of the children, totally entranced by the music, as they danced and whirled with coat tails and skirts fluttering. There was a joy these people worn like a garment and a sparkle in their eye. They were different, not the downtrodden slum dwellers, not the wealthy - bored and above it all, not the slave class - overwhelmed and beyond caring. These people were different; they were vibrant... in love with life.

When evening came round O'Neill sat near their campfire.

"You've come to have your fortune told?"

"Perhaps" Jack said.

Sam came and sat beside him.

"You don't belong here."

"Don't have to be psychic to figure that out.  
I'm Jack O'Neill and this is…"

The man's expression froze, staring at Jack hard and long. He turned his head and yell back to the wagon.

"Sean, your kin is here."

A tall wiry man emerged for the wagon and cautiously walked over to Jack. He eyed Jack up and down and looked over Sam as well.

"I see the Northmen stopped by your village. In our village they usually only took things. I see they left a little something behind or did you go raiding for your prize?"

Jack just glared at the man as did Sam.

"Pardon me for my lack of manners; I am Sean Niall, of the clan of the High King."

"I'm Jack O'Neill and this is Samantha Carter."

"And what are you seeking Jack son of Niall."

"To tell you the truth we just want to go home."

"Ah now, don't we all."


	16. Chapter 16

They talked into the night and shared a meal and a jug. The Pavee origin on the planet was unknown but there were tales. Oh yes, there were tales that Daniel would have reveled in and there weren't enough days and nights to sort them all out. But what did matter was they were feared but the locals, in fact all the inhabitance of this planet and quite a few more. And best yet they could approach the Stargate and travel the stars at will. They were, after all, kin to the builders; they were their errant wandering children.

"Now I don't know how these folks have come to fear us, they usually spent their time trying to exploit us. They think we possess talents or gifts that are powerful or have wealth that they desire. Sometimes this leads to trouble but most often it gives us easy access to the portals. We are neither wizards nor are we rich, except in our families and heritage.  
And you, Jack, being kin and all, and, of course, your lovely companion, would be welcome to joins us."

"We need to get home."

"Anywhere can be home."

"Can you help us?"

"How about tonight then?"

Jack took them to his meager hoard, threw open the door and let them have anything they wanted save the weapons and uniforms. It occurred to him that he might be allowing himself to be robbed. It could be in his desperation he wanted to believe these people. But believed them he did; he believed they had the key.

One of the teenaged boys, whose arms were laden with booty, said "Jack O'Neill, we have nothing to give you in return."

Jack smiled at the kid and said "I thought we were kin."

The boy's mother, laying her hand on his arm, said "Then we will wish for you what we wish all our kin that Blessed One smiles on you and yours."

Jack and Sam dressed and armed themselves and leaving everything else behind walked to the gate with Sean. The guards on the plaza, trying not to show their fear, suddenly appeared interested in a far away hill side, purposely tying to ignore them. The guards nervously glanced at them as Sean stepped up to the DHD and flinched as the wormhole erupted, casting the plaza in the undulating blue of the event horizon. Jack's hand sought out Carter's as they step forward, his eyes straight ahead, looking toward their future.

"Farewell, brother" was the last thing Jack heard as they stepped into the wormhole.


	17. Chapter 17

Sam had come in early for a meeting with General Hammond hoping for his assistance to sort through the complications that their off-world stay and subsequent return had caused. Walking to his office the passages of the mountain were at once familiar and oddly disconcerting. Having lived above ground for so long the tunnels felt dank and claustrophobic.

The first thing she was aware of was the soft chink of the chains and as she turned the corner there he was, shackled, hand and foot with a chain around his waist linked to the others. She had not seen him since the debrief when they were separated to repeat their story and answer endless questions. And now here he was before her; his face was a grim mask, his eyes flat and his posture that of a man who would not be cowed even if in chains. She had not been allowed to talk to him since the petty self important bureaucrats sought revenge by insisting that charges be brought against them both. They thought by bringing him down they could assume his power, influence and advantage among the Alien allies and the various heads of state of Earth. He look neither left nor right as if this could make him invisible to prying or pitying eyes. But this is not what he confronted. As the SF's escorted him through the base to a more secure holding cell in a distant facility every one of his fellow officers, former colleagues and the common service men and women snapped to and addressed him as "Sir" or "Colonel".

The instant he was aware of Carter a smile flickered across his face. If she had blinked she would have missed it. This time the word "Sir" from her lips warmed his heart. And it was all worth it, the chains, the humiliation, the lack of freedom and this dreadful isolation. She was free - no guards, no chains, no cell. And the love and respect he saw in her face and heard in her voice steeled him for the trials ahead. He knew if worse came to worse and they were both convicted Daniel or Teal'c would get her out. The Asgard or the Tok'ra would suddenly need her expertise and insist on her presence on their world. His friends would find a way to protect her. She was all that mattered. These were allies you did not put off. The greed of his political enemies would deem it expedient to have her gone from Earth and, as an added bonus, separated from him. They would think they were using her to spite him while scoring brownie points with our powerful galactic allies. Jack knew Daniel could carry this off; Sam would be free and safe. He could live with the rest.

As he passed and the mask of indifference fell over his face once again her smile faded as well. She could tell by the way he walked that his back was bothering him. He was way too stiff, not his usual graceful loping stride. It infuriated her that he was in chains and as she rounded the next corner there stood a seething General Hammond with a look of utter disgust and contempt on his face. The muscles of his jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth. This was a man holding back his anger at events he had no control over. All he said was.

"It's a shame. It's a god damned shame."


	18. Chapter 18

It's funny the things you think of when you finally come home after being away for so long. Sleeping in his own bed – that's what he wanted, the comfort of his own things. And more than that, he wanted to make a home with Sam. They had lived with practically nothing and got on amazingly well. He was a little nervous at the thought of blending their more complicated lives of professions and possessions. He hadn't thought it through but knew that whatever she wanted was the direction they would go. She would probably defer to him thus making decisions difficult. The chance never came. Before they made it out of the base, before they stood out in the fresh air and under the warmth of the sun accusations were hurled and charges drawn. Not by their friends and colleagues, they remained loyal, but by the political enemies he attracted like flies. And so his dream of a big comfy bed with his wife in his arms morphed into a cold cell in solitary with a thin yet lumpy mattress. And the dream he could almost taste of a cold beer and a grilled rare steak was in reality lukewarm weak coffee and mystery meat topped with congealed gravy.

He knew the cell was monitored. The cameras were obvious, so there was a definite possibility of microphones as well, and god knows what else. He didn't want them to know. It felt as though someone had poured icy cold water on him and then the slammed a fist into his chest. He never realized that missing her would hurt so much. He wanted to bury his head in his hands, squeeze his eyes tight and curl up in a ball but he would not give them the satisfaction. He wouldn't give them that; he wouldn't give them anything. He kept his eyes trained on the wall in front of him, his expressions blank and prayed that Sam wasn't in the same pain.

He missed the feel of her velvety soft skin under his finger tips, the sound of her laugh, the warmth of her body, her subtle scent. He had seen her walking free in the hallway of the SGC. She looked good, gained a few pounds, her figure rounding out a bit. He prayed that they wouldn't lock her up as they did him, locked up in a small cell with no privacy, no comforts, no visitors, no information and soon there would be no hope.

He gasped at the thought of never seeing or holding her again and quickly turned it into a cough. This was too private; his pain was not for their amusement. He would give them nothing; they would not see him crack.

His fingers twitched at the remembered sensations. The left side of his face lifted. Instead of schooling his emotions, he thought maybe it would drive them crazy to see him smiling in his cell.

* * *

Sam sat in Daniel's living room waiting for him as he changed for dinner. He was babbling in the other room but she had neither the energy nor interest to listen. They were meeting the JAG lawyers and they were both nervous. There on the coffee table was a manuscript, a new translation of the Gilgamesh, filled in with some missing passages provided by that fateful trip to Mari. She flipped through the pages and started reading.

"I curse you with strongest of all curses…  
Never may you have a home and family,  
Never caress a child of your own…  
May your man prefer younger, prettier girls…"

She closed the manuscript before her tears wet the paper. He was in prison for something they both had done. They took him from the mountain in chains as if he was a common criminal and she was released in her own recognizance. Sam knew he wouldn't resent this but it angered her to see him mistreated. She had tried desperately to keep her mind busy because if she didn't, she missed him so much, she thought she would go mad. And she needed to concentrate, to focus her mind; their freedom might depend on it.

They were such fools. They wanted so desperately to get back. And what did they find? There, on that god forsaken hellhole, they had everything, 'not bread nor beer' but each other. And now she needed him like the air in her lung, like the blood in her veins and she was so alone.

According to the Gilgamesh the civilizing agents of man were bread, beer and sex.


	19. Chapter 19

**The private notes of the SGC's CMO**

On their return Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter were both physically and mentally evaluated. The stress of being marooned off world was well documented to produce severe reactions in the finest of officers. They were separately debriefed at length and both wound up in cells. O'Neill was deemed the most dangerous and least likely to follow orders remained confined. Major Carter's condition was taken in consideration and was released. They weren't allowed to communicate with each other. While Colonel O'Neill understood that there was extreme pressure on General Hammond and this was his only option, he appeared resentful and thoroughly angry at the situation. Major Carter felt her freedom betrayed her loyalty to O'Neill. They were both given the out of "alien influence – get out of jail free" card to explain their current state. They independently refused and allowed the process of a court martial to begin. I do not think this will affect Colonel O'Neill, except perhaps for his blood pressure, but am somewhat apprehensive about its effects on Major Carter.

* * *

**Excerpts from the Court Martial of Major Samantha Carter**

Prosecution: "Dr. Lee, did you ever witness Major Carter acting in an inappropriate manner in regard toward Colonel O'Neill?"

Dr. Lee: "Sir I have known both of these officers for many years and…"

Prosecution: "Would you please answer the question." The officer demanded.

Dr. Lee: "It was a very long time ago and it was under duress."

Prosecution: "Doctor Lee"

Dr. Lee: "When Colonel O'Neill was lost through a transportation device of Furling design, Major Carter became extremely angry when my team of technicians packed up to go back to Earth."

Prosecution: "Why were you leaving?"

Dr. Lee: "We could not make any head way. The technology as completely foreign to us and I deemed it a waste of our time. The project was useless."

Prosecution: "Why did Major Carter object then?"

Dr. Lee: "Because Colonel O'Neill was lost and this was the device that caused his disappearance."

Prosecution: "Was she emotional?"

O'Neill was uncomfortable with this incessant line of questioning and had the ardent desire to punch out the JAG officer but instead sat tall and stared straight ahead.

Dr. Lee: "She was extremely angry. I think she felt somewhat to blame for what had happened. She, herself, had been working non stop for the week we were there and she was probably very tired."

Prosecution: "No further questions."

The defense rose.

Defense: "Dr. Lee, when were Colonel O'Neill and Colonel Maybourne found?"

Dr. Lee: "About 4 weeks later."

Defense: "What was their condition?"

Prosecution: "I object; Dr. Lee is not a medical doctor."

Judge: "Over ruled"

Dr. Lee: "Colonel Maybourne was never returned to the SGC but I heard that he had been shot twice, quit seriously."

Defense: "And Colonel O'Neill?"

Dr. Lee: "Colonel O'Neill, I believed spent over a week in the infirmary with shrapnel wounds to his leg, from a grenade. I also heard that they were both poisoned by a plant, which we were given to study. It was psychotropic causing delusions and paranoia."

Defense: "Would these men have fared betted if they had been found earlier?"

Dr. Lee: "Of course"

Defense: "Who figured out where Colonel O'Neill was?"

Dr. Lee: "Colonel O'Neill's team, SG-1"

Defense: "Headed by?"

Dr. Lee: "Major Carter."

Defense: "Not emotionally running off in a myriad of directions but steadfastly approaching the problem with clearheaded logical thinking."

Dr. Lee: "Yes sir."

Defense: "No further questions of this witness."


	20. Chapter 20

**Excerpts from the Court Martial of Major Samantha Carter**

Prosecution: "Was this just blatant fraternization or was it command rape? Did Colonel O'Neill order you into his bed?"

Major Carter: "No sir. The colonel in fact seldom gave direct orders. We followed his lead in the field but we were not afraid to speak our mind especially in our field of expertise. He led by example and motivation. Direct orders were usually given to take the consequences of distasteful decisions upon himself. And no, I was not ordered to cohabit with the colonel that I did of my own free will."

Prosecution: "When did you abandon your mission?"

Major Carter: "Our mission, sir? Our mission was to assess the situation on P8X-925 and provide protection for and assist in the resettlement of the refugees. When we were forced off P8X-925 and separated from our team and the refugees our original mission ceased."

Prosecution: "In fact your mission changed to that of a return to base did it not?"

Major Carter: "That objective we never gave up on but at some point we became realistic. There was no rescue forthcoming and there was no way to the Stargate."

Prosecution: "And yet, Major Carter you are here."

Major Carter: "Yes sir, here we are, through no help on your part. If we remained on that planet I believe we would have not lasted long. Starvation, disease and indiscriminate violence were our constant companions. We are here on trial because we survived, because we got ourselves home with the help of wandering aliens that saw some of themselves in us. These people are potentially valuable allies but you will find they, like the Asgard, prefer Colonel O'Neill."

Prosecution: "You are on trial, Major, because you are 6 months pregnant."

Major Carter: "Not much hope for the human race if pregnancy is a crime."

Prosecution: "You know perfectly well…"

The judge's gavel rapped sharply and stopped the interchange.

* * *

**Excerpts from the testimony of Colonel John J. O'Neill at his Court Martial:**

"And when did this sexual affair between you and Major Carter begin?"

O'Neill scowled and refused to make eye contact or even acknowledge his accuser.

"Were you involved sexually before this mission?"

O'Neill remained silent but graced the JAG prosecutor with the foulest glare in his repertoire.

"Would the court please direct the defendant to answer?"

"We were there eight fucking months. No way to get home, no hope of rescue and, in fact, for the last seven of those months, no one on Earth was looking for us. We survived. We did the best we could."


	21. Chapter 21

Neither Jack nor Sam was convicted at their Court Martial. They were, however, both given official reprimands and were docked a month's wages. Considering the fact that General Hammond had procured for them combat pay for their months in exile the loss in pay was not a problem. They were both informed that it would be a cold day in hell before either of them was considered for a promotion; Jack just said "Your loss." He was talking about Carter.

Colonel O'Neill returned to SG-1 although Colonel Reynolds remained General Hammond's second in command. Major Carter's transfer, to a unit that specialized in technology and research, was delayed until after her maternity leave.

Sam was delivered of a boy whom they called Sean. And most of the SGC, past and present, showed up for the celebration at the O'Neills' house.

There lay on the counter in the kitchen, amid the gifts and food and bottles of wine, a card from Daniel. In his handwriting was a quote from his new translation of the Gilgamesh.

"And Siduri advised Gilgamesh:

'Savor your food.  
Make each of your days a delight.  
Let music and dancing fill your house.  
Love the child that holds you by the hand.  
And give your wife pleasure in your arms.  
This is the true task of man.'"

The party, given to celebrate their marriage and their son's birth, filled the house and spilled out into the back yard. There was laughter and music, jigs and reels could be heard. And under the stars Jack O'Neill danced with Sam with the babe in their arms.

The End

A/N: Thank you for reading my work and for the reviews.


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